


Setting the Trap

by mmouse15



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmouse15/pseuds/mmouse15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Blackout get the nickname 'The Hound of Megatron'? How did he acquire Scorponok?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Trap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/gifts).



> For [hellkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/profile) and the [Transformers Summer Gift Exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TFSummerEX/profile).

Blackout stood with the rest of his group, proud and composed. He had finished his initial education and had chosen a heavy armor for his final plating. With his build and his choice of plating, it was an obvious choice for him to go into one of the military divisions on Cybertron. Being a mech of no small ambition, Blackout had chosen to try for the Defense Force, the elite group directly under the Lord High Protector of Cybertron. Out of every ten mechs that tried for the Force, only one or two made it into the squads, and most of them quit after their first vorn. Blackout had done well on every test thrown at him and had made it through the selection process, and now he was standing with the rest of the new recruits, right in front of the podium where the Lord High Protector and the Prime of Cybertron would welcome them officially into the Force. The rest of the Force was arrayed around them, in ranks that filled the bottom of the arena.

Sentinel Prime was a grand mech, his voice clear and ringing. His speech was warm, but not very personal. When the Lord High Protector, Megatron, stepped up to the podium, the entire Force tightened, and Blackout's spark thrilled under his chest plates.

"We are the Defense Force!" Megatron roared, and the arena shook as the whole Force roared back at him, "Defense!"

"We protect every mech on Cybertron! We lay our sparks on the line to keep them safe! We support the glory of Cybertron!" Megatron had every mech hanging on his words, his Force and the spectators both cheering.

"New recruits!" Megatron lowered his head and looked at them. Blackout and every mech around him stood infinitesimally straighter, proud to have the undivided attention of the Lord himself on them.

"You are joining the best of Cybertron. Make me proud!" With that, Megatron stepped back and let his captains and commanders finish the ceremony.

Blackout had never felt this intense devotion before. He would die for Megatron, and he vowed to himself to become worthy of notice from his lord.

Blackout was assigned to the division of an old mech named Burnisher. Burnisher had served his entire existence in the military, and he showed every vorn of his existence in the numerous dents, scars, and chips that covered his plating. Nothing was compromised, but Burnisher obviously saw no need to expend resources to replace plating that was still adequate for the job of protecting him. Burnisher led by example. Every time his squadron went out for exercises, Burnisher was right there with them, doing the same exercises and running the same drills. Blackout learned a lot under Burnisher, and the best thing he learned led him to his first serious upgrade.

"Blackout!" Burnisher called.

"Yes, sir!" Blackout replied, trotting over to his commander.

"You and I are going to head out. I'm leaving Rackout in charge. Gather what supplies you need for five orns and join me here in a breem."

Blackout promptly headed to the supply depot and got enough energon and supplemental metals for his body to make the various projectiles fired by his weapons. He and Burnisher headed out into the badlands beyond their base camp.

"I'm going to try and teach you how to track. There's a rogue primitive that's been attacking the local settlement, and we've been asked to track it down and eliminate it."

Burnisher then settled into the business of showing Blackout how to track, showing him the faint signs left behind by the primitive. Blackout struggled the first couple of orns, unable to see what Burnisher was pointing out to him. At their small camp that orn, Burnisher told him, "Don't try so hard. I'm showing what I can see. I think you can do this, but you might be needing to track something else. I'm going to step back and let you figure it out."

Blackout nodded, and rolled over to take his rest while he could, before he took over the watch from Burnisher.

The next orn, Blackout stood near the last signs Burnisher had shown him, and settled himself, letting his optics travel over the broken forms of the wastelands. He could see the signs that Burnisher was showing him, but he couldn't put their meaning together in a way that made sense. However, he could pick up a faint spark signature, and he began to follow that.

The primitive was very smart and very stealthy. Blackout could feel him, but neither he nor Burnisher could see any signs of the mech's passing. Blackout finally stopped and looked at a small crevice. He waved Burnisher back and crouched down.

"Hey. I'll bet you're hungry. Come out, let's talk," Blackout crooned, setting a small packet of energon down and slowly backing away.

Long moments passed, but Blackout stayed crouched down and Burnisher followed his lead, remaining watchful but still.

A large insectoid mech crept out of the crevice and snatched up the energon with its claws, making the fuel disappear. Blackout slowly pulled out another packet, and moved carefully forward. The primitive skittered back into the crevice, wedging itself in so that only its claws and the glow of its optics were visible. Blackout left the packet in the same place and retreated. They repeated this process several times, and each time the primitive stayed further outside the crevice until finally it let Blackout touch it.

Burnisher made a slow motion of his own, miming a shot, and Blackout shook his head carefully, offering the primitive another packet of energon and smoothing a hand over its back when it took it.

Burnisher sent via comm _::Looks like you made a friend.::_

_::Can I keep him?::_

_::If you can keep him in check, yes.::_

Blackout grinned and continued petting the primitive.

"I think I'll call him Scorponok."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After acquiring Scorponok, Blackout had to change his armor so the primitive had a compartment in his back where it could slot itself and feed off Blackout's systems. They became good companions, and Blackout continued to refine his hunting technique with Burnisher's guidance. Blackout was happy.

Then he was transferred to a new division. His new commander, Slapdash, was perfectly polished, every plate dent-free and gleaming. Blackout looked down at himself, still covered in the grime of a long hunt, and knew this was going to be a difficult assignment.

Slapdash didn't say anything, just looked over the handful of mechs that had transferred with Blackout. They were all dirty, although their weapons were in perfect condition. Slapdash turned to his second-in-command and said, "Get them cleaned up and then we'll decide where they go."

"Yes, sir. Mechs, follow me!" The SIC led them to shower racks, and suggested strongly that they avail themselves of the various polishes and cleansers lined up on shelves. They all looked at each other before shrugging and doing as he said. Blackout released Scorponok and gave him a bath of his own, letting the small mech splash as Blackout scrubbed the grit and grime from his symbiont's frame. He then fed Scorponok and let him climb back into his niche within Blackout's frame after Blackout finished his own ablutions. Once every mech was gleaming, they followed the SIC back out to the parade grounds, where Slapdash met them and looked them over before giving them their new assignments.

To Blackout's horror, their assignments had nothing to do with their abilities. Instead, they had been sent to regiments based solely upon their appearance. It seemed that Slapdash very much liked to have mechs of equal sizes grouped together, and in parades, he would let the smaller mechs go first, gradually increasing their size until the largest mechs were at the end of Slapdash's division. It was good showmanship, but Blackout had nothing in common with any of the mechs around him. They all seemed to value how they appeared over what they could accomplish, and this was incredibly restrictive to Blackout. The smaller mechs were usually the ones sent out to hunt down primitives or lawbreakers, and Blackout struggled with the restrictions placed upon him.

It all came to a head when a very bad mech escaped and the entire Defense Force was called upon to capture him. Slapdash let his little mechs lead them, and for a while, they were going in the correct direction. However, they started following tracks that Blackout knew were wrong, and he stepped forward to say as much.

Slapdash turned and asked him, "Who are you, and why are you telling me this?"

"Sir, I trained as a tracker under Burnisher. Your trackers are going the wrong direction," Blackout responded.

"Indeed. Burnisher is a mech of low means, and I don't trust any mech trained under him. We will follow my trackers."

"He'll get away!" Blackout growled out, "There's enough of a gap between us and the next division that he'll slip away between us, and we'll have wasted our time!"

Slapdash opened his mouth, but was interrupted.

"What's going on here?"

Slapdash snapped off a salute, "Captain Ironhide! Sir, this mech is just trying to have my attention on him, it's nothing of any importance."

 

"Really?" Captain Ironhide tilted his head and looked at Blackout.

Blackout straightened up and returned the captain's regard.

"What's your name, soldier?" Ironhide asked.

"Blackout, sir," Blackout replied.

"Blackout. Why do you think Commander Slapdash, here, is going in the wrong direction?"

Blackout answered, "Because the mech we're after is right over there, hiding behind that knoll."

Ironhide promptly turned and marched over to the knoll, his guns rolling out of his forearms and spinning up. The mech sprang out as soon as he realized Ironhide was coming for him, transforming and attempting to speed away.

Blackout didn't hesitate, he fired. He was not the only one; Ironhide fired, too, and the mech tumbled gracelessly in a heap. Ironhide leapt on him and slapped stasis cuffs on. He comm'd for assistance, and shortly, a group of rugged-looking mechs came to take the mech into custody.

Ironhide made his way over to Slapdash, who was looking surprised.

"I'm taking this mech for my division. Get the proper paperwork filed with whoever the slag needs it. Blackout, come with me."

Slapdash sputtered behind them, but Blackout didn't look back, keeping right on Ironhide's heels. They followed the group with the escapee, and Blackout was happy to find himself in the Lord High Protector's camp.

"Wait here," Ironhide said gruffly, ducking into a mobile command unit. Blackout settled himself on his heels and took the opportunity to soothe Scorponok. The symbiont didn't like Slapdash, and tended to get himself ready for a fight whenever Blackout had to spend any time in his division commander's company.

Ironhide came back out, followed by…

"My lord Megatron," Blackout said, immediately going to one knee.

"Up, up," Megatron said, "Ironhide tells me you are a tracker."

"Yes, sir," Blackout said, rising to his feet but keeping his optics on the ground.

"Good. Ironhide, take him out and run a test on him."

"Yes, sir," Ironhide replied, and motioned Blackout to follow him. Blackout hurriedly put himself on Ironhide's heels and they walked out to a large open area.

"Hiding out here, somewhere, is a mech. Find him," Ironhide said.

Blackout threw him a disbelieving look, then turned his attention to the field. He allowed himself to fall into hunter mode, letting his optics seek out signs and his spark seek out resonances. There was nothing. Blackout frowned and shook himself before trying again. This time, he didn't restrict himself to the surface, instead casting his senses out into the air and under the surface.

"Sir, there are three mechs out there," Blackout reported, "There are two seekers, one there and the other over there. Plus a mech under the surface, over there."

Ironhide turned to the field and sent a comm. Blackout felt the buzz of the communique, and three red lights came on, exactly where he had pointed. Ironhide nodded to himself and walked back to camp, Blackout following behind.

When they reached the command center, Ironhide pulled Blackout in behind him and led him over to Megatron. The Defense Force leader looked surprised to see them.

"Found 'em," reported Ironhide, "and it only took him a couple of breems. Got them exactly."

Megatron's brow ridges arched, and he said, "Well, well, well. What do you think, Captain Ironhide? Can we use a mech like this?" Megatron had amusement writ large on his face plates.

"We can always use mechs with initiative, my lord," the big black mech answered.

"Blackout, would you like to join my division?" Megatron asked him.

"Yes, sir," Blackout replied quickly.

"Excellent. Welcome to the Black Squadron. I've long needed a hunter like you," Megatron said, "Ironhide, get him settled. I need you back here."

"Yes, sir. Follow me, Blackout," Ironhide led him to the quartermaster, who arranged his quarters and rations. He seemed to know everything about Blackout, including Scorponok, and when Blackout arrived at his quarters, his gear was already on his bunk.

Blackout sat on the bunk, hardly believing his good fortune. He was looking forward to his future.

_The End_


End file.
